


baby, all i want for christmas is you

by phae



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Christmas Smut, M/M, with just a hint of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 06:07:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17136395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phae/pseuds/phae
Summary: Clint just wanted to get Phil the perfect Christmas present, you know?





	baby, all i want for christmas is you

Clint pushes the apartment door closed with his hip and makes a beeline for the Keurig set up on the kitchen island. For all that he’s a simple coffee pot kind of guy, there’s something to be said about the expediency of Phil’s fancy Keurig and his assortment of flavored K-cups.

 

“That you, babe?” Phil calls from the living room, an air of distraction hanging about the question.

 

“Nah, just your friendly neighborhood robber,” Clint quips back as he bumps up the cup capacity and taps the button to brew his peppermint mocha extra strong.

 

“Oh, thank goodness, Mr. Robber!” Phil replies in a breathy, high-pitched voice. “Maybe you can tell me who this present’s meant to be for!”

 

“Huh?” Clint grabs his piping hot mug and wanders into the other room, taking a sip and then immediately regretting it as it sets his tongue on fire.

 

Phil snorts around a laugh and holds up a rectangular package wrapped in plain brown paper, a sparse bit of twine wound around it and cinched in a basic bow. Clint looks at the package blankly, trying to place it, while he lets his tongue loll out to cool. It’s vaguely familiar, but the past month has been a whirlwind of presents and boxes and far too much Disney Princess wrapping paper as he went a bit overboard in preparation for his first ever Coulson Family Christmas. After a moment, he shrugs helplessly.

 

“You sure?” Phil asks as he shakes the present absently; there’s only a faint swishing of tissue paper to be heard. “‘Cause I know I didn’t wrap it. It was in the back of the closet under the stuff you hadn’t gotten around to wrapping for the girls yet, which I took care of, by the way.”

 

Clint can feel the blood rapidly draining from his face as mounting horror dawns. Because he does, in fact, know exactly what that present is and who it’s intended for. Or had been, at any rate, before he chickened out and tossed it in the closet next to his shoes to return on his next day off.

 

“That’s--it’s nothing,” Clint mutters, barely resisting the urge to reach across the coffee table and snatch the package out of Phil’s hand. “I need to take it back.”

 

“What _is it_ , though?” Phil asks curiously, shaking it with more purpose this time, teasing at a folded edge of paper to wiggle it free.

 

“Nothing!” Panic surges up from Clint’s gut and into his limbs, propelling him forward in a mad scramble across the room before he’s abruptly halted by the arm of the couch that juts out and barely catches his balance before he brains himself on the table corner, his coffee sloshing over the lip of his mug and slowly coursing down the side to burn his hand as well.

 

“Clint?” Phil regards Clint with that measured, calculating gaze that means he’s putting together puzzle pieces Clint doesn’t want him to have while Clint's pathetically trying to suck the burn out of his skin.

 

Slowly pulling his hand away and placing his mug down on the coffee table, Clint bites the bullet and explains hesitantly, “It was...a present for you. One of those spur of the moment kinds of things? But then I thought about it for a sec after I’d got it, and realized it was a giant no-go, so--gotta take it back.”

 

Phil drops the package down on to the coffee table and taps the top of it. “What’s in here that’s getting you all flustered, huh?”

 

“It’s _nothing_ ,” Clint insists. “I gotta get you the perfect gift, is all.” He waves a dismissive hand at the _futzing_ package as he scowls. “And that sure ain’t it.”

 

Phil shakes his head ruefully. “We’ve been together how long, now? And you’re still tying yourself up in knots over a Christmas present?”

 

“Shut up,” Clint scoffs, rubbing at the back of his neck in embarrassment.

 

“Clint, you know I don’t want a lot for Christmas.” Phil starts off with his most deadpan, dry tone, but he quickly starts ramping up into a lilt as he continues. “There’s just one thing I need. I don’t care about the presents underneath the Christmas tree. I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know--”

 

“Ugh, why do you always have to say shit like that!” Clint wails, tugging his hands through his hair roughly.

 

“Clint, hey. I’m just teasing,” Phil placates. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

 

“I know,” Clint sighs. “I’m just being stupid.”

 

Phil rolls up to his feet and rounds the table to crowd in close to Clint, cupping his face in his hands and tilting Clint’s head up so that he can make eye contact. “You are _anything_ but stupid.”

 

A familiar flush starts spreading from Clint’s ears to his cheeks, the same as it does anytime Phil gets all high and mighty defending Clint, especially when it’s Clint himself doing the dissing. “Yeah, yeah.”

 

“Whatever it is in there? If you it picked out with me in mind, than I’m sure I’d love it,” Phil promises sincerely with a soft smile.

 

Clint looks back at his boyfriend and really takes him in; he’s wearing one of Clint’s hoodies, the sleeves pushed up his forearms, and an old pair of jeans worn soft over the years. This is Home Phil, who’s miles apart from SHIELD Phil; who never hesitates to show Clint just how much he loves him; who’s never cruelly dismissed a single one of Clint’s concerns or reservations about their relationship. This is _Phil_ , and Phil would, in fact, really like this particular present just as much, if not more so, than Clint does. Gulping as he gathers his courage, Clint reaches up to wrap his hands around Phil’s where they’re still cradling his face. “Open it.”

 

Phil doesn’t ask if he’s sure, just takes him at his word and pulls back after a quick peck to retrieve the present. He tears off the tape on one side and unwraps it with all the care he normally does even though it’s not any kind of nice paper worth saving. When he gets to lifting off the lid of the box, Clint ducks his head and shoves his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels nervously. He knows what Phil’s going to find in there, after all. And all that’s left is for Phil to look the delicate lace pieces over, finish slotting all the little pieces together, and form the kinky puzzle in its entirety.

 

Clint’s eyes dart up while his head stays down as Phil pulls out one of the purple pairs of panties nestled inside the box, his expression blank for eight damning seconds before something possessive and immensely aroused takes over.

 

“Go change,” Phil orders as he hands the pair over, just the faintest hint of a growl coloring his tone. “But put your pants back on after. I want to be able to properly unwrap my present.”


End file.
